Turn Left
by Business of Misery
Summary: After falling from Asgard, Loki found solstice in a woman and her son. Never before had he realized that pain could be shared from worlds away. Loki/OC Pre-Avengers, one-shot split into three parts.
1. Part I

_Hello, lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little story. Just so you know, after reading, I have opened a poll asking rather readers think I should continue with this story. It will take place during the Avengers and, if well received, Thor: The Dark World. Please vote or drop a review in order to continue the story. And thank you for reading! Enjoy._

* * *

**_"Every man has secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_**

* * *

Burning pain. It was all he could do to focus on the blinding, terrible sensation rocking his body in the darkness. No, not darkness. His eyes were just closed- that was it. The pain ripped through his ribcage and sprouted through the veins of his limbs and tucked in the tips of his fingers and the flat bottoms of his feet. He wasn't even fully aware of his breathing until he realized that he was, in fact, not dead. The pain was too horrid for it to be otherwise. He was not on fire, that much he was sure of- no towering inferno, even though his lungs burned with pain with each intake. Slowly, he registered the world beneath his body. The ground was broken, torn apart under him. He felt a million, maybe more, infinitesimal rocks, small as sand, shifting around him as he willed the digits on his right hand to twitch. They listened and his knuckles brushed against the broken ground. Finally, his eyes cracked open. A blinding light met the fringe of his lashes and he blinked against it, trying to will the source away. It went nowhere, but his eyes opened a slight bit more as he inhaled again.

He saw the sky first. The sky was a vibrant blue, nothing like he had seen in his own home. A cloud floated overhead, momentarily shielding him from the offending sphere of light. His body moved as soon as he could coax it to do so, easing to his feet. He blinked again as the wind whipped through the dark hair by his ears. He was standing, he realized, in the middle of what was surely once a wide, ongoing road. It stretched in either direction seemingly infinitely. One end fed over a hill and disappeared behind a mass of trees, the other tailing off over a set of such hills. He glanced down at his feet and around him immediately, finding that he had landed right in the center of the strange, rocky path. After looking up again, he could see the expanse of fields, stretching around him, following the road over the hills and under the trees.

Loki felt a smirk cross his lips. _Midgard. _His lips faltered as he winced upon taking a step out of the crevice his fall had imprinted on the earth, his leg nearly giving out under him. He pressed forward, choosing to go to his left, toward the single hill and through the trees. Exactly where he was, Loki did not know. A million things ran through his head as he trenched forward slowly, limping with each movement. He was not nearly as strong as he should have been, which was rather unfortunate. In due time, he pondered quietly, he would be back on the path to redemption. There was many a time he wanted to lean on the bark of the towering forest or drop to his knees, but he held his chin up against the sky and continued, tongue between his teeth.

With a grunt, Loki reached up, pulling the armour that engulfed his chest over his head, tossing it behind him. It rolled across the ground with a deafening crunch, plummeting into the hole behind him and forgotten, taking the long cape with it. The lack of weight eased the pain in his shoulders, but the cold wind kissed the now bare skin he had exposed, sifting through the holes in his clothing. Blood stuck to his back, slivers of it gliding over his spine. He shed the braces on his arms as well, looking down at the now exposed forearms. They were darkly bruised, one of them bleeding from a place where the metal had pressed too hard into his skin. Without the armour on his body, Loki felt incredibly exposed. He had to get out of the open air. Pressing forward, he did not slow until he got to the edge of the wide fields where the trees met together.

He felt his knees grow weak and his head began to spin. His hands shot out to the sides and, lucky for him, one of them grasped onto the thick bark of a close by tree. His body fell towards it against his will and he cursed under his breath. He saw his boots on the grass, tainted with thick mud. His pants were nearly shredded, hanging off his waist limply. He wanted to grin at the irony of it all, but his lips could only twitch.

The spinning took off once more and he lurched forward, forehead against the tree. A pain shot up his left leg and he saw, for the first time, a heavy flow of blood from a gash on his thigh. Clumsily, he placed his free hand over the wound and mumbled under his breath. A tingle shot through his arm, but there were no sparks or overflowing cold as there should have been, and his wound remained. Loki's brows knit together and teeth pressed hard at the back of his jaw.

He was too weak to use even the slightest bit of magic. And nothing infuriated Loki like being powerless.

The trees behind him did little to shield Loki from the impending wind, and he could not stop it from blowing against his exposed skin and in his eyes from the side where trees did not cover him. He peered in that direction, as though his glare were simply enough to ward the wind gods away. More fields shot across the horizon, much to his disdain, but a structure stood out against the sunlight. He tried to look closer at it and made out the vague shape: it was nothing compared to the palace in Asgard and only a faint yellow in color. Something moved in one of the windows; a curtain falling back into place as a curious eye had spotted him too. The mischievous god barely had enough time to process the door swinging open when his legs collapsed under him and he was met, once again, with a world of darkness.

* * *

"Mom! Mom!" The little boy carried his body toward the door, throwing it open without so much as consideration for the screen as it snapped against the outside panneling, flying like a cape behind him. His wide eyes wandered through the living room just once- scanning the slick leather couch, the rarely used television that had been shoved against the far corner, and the alabaster curtains that blocked out just enough of the bright sun before pressing through the archway into the kitchen.

He found her there, standing at the sink with a towel in her hand. Her dark hair was pulled at the back of her head, quite a mess as it was, her flannel shirt opened and dotted with the summer sweat. She rubbed a bead from her face with her shoulder, as her hands were soaked. She spun the plate in her hand and spared only a glance at the small boy in the doorway with bright eyes and dirt on his jeans.

"Mom, there's a man outside." Excitement filled the boy's throat as he wavered back and forth, anticipation killing him. The woman sighed heavily but did not flinch.

"Tell him we don't want to buy anything." She pushed a piece of stray hair from her face, but the boy had not moved from his place.

"I can't, he's unconscious and his clothes are all torn up." At his words, the woman shot a disbelieving look at her son, the hand holding the towel coming to rest on her hip and her other balancing her against the counter.

"What have I told you about lying?" Her brows rose and the boy shook his head.

"No, really! He's covered in blood too, I think he's dying." When she didn't move, the boy shot forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her in the direction of the door. "Come see!"

"Honestly!" She quipped, tossing the towel on the counter top as she followed the boy. She stopped him, her hands on his shoulders and kneeling so they were eye to eye. "Joking about people dying is not funny and you should be ashamed." Her eyes were stern, but warm. The little boy shook his head, tugging desperately on her shirt sleeve.

"I swear, you have to see." With that, the woman gave up and decided to humour his imagination. He practically ran out the front door once again, his mother following slowly behind. As he burst across the short meadow that was their front yard, she held her hand up to her eyes against the sun, watching him go. He stopped by the line of trees, beckoning her closer. Rolling her eyes, she wove down the three steps on the porch and started after him at a slow pace.

About half way through the grass, she stopped. There, at her son's feet, something lay in the weeds. It was a cluster of black, though she could see bits of... _Skin? _Her heart leaped into her throat and she started forward again, pushing back dread building in her stomach. The closer she got, the easier it was to make out the form. Hair, black as tar. Then torn fabric that looked like it had met a tiger. Her pace quickened and, soon, she was sprinting through the knee high ocean of green. A face. She could see a face. It was gentle, with sharp cheeks and a slender nose. The eyes were closed, but they were still beautiful despite the wound at his brow leaking blood over the lids.

When she was close enough, she had dropped down without stopping for breath, hands already around the wrist and ear at his exposed chest. A faint pulse radiated there and she felt her heart skip. He was alive.

* * *

For the second time, Loki found himself waking in unfamiliar terrain. This time, his eyes opened immediately. He was not alone, and he was not keen on the hands that touched his leg. He tried to pull it toward him, but a pain shot through the bone, muscle and veins and pinched the back of his head. He let out a hiss, the leg relaxing in reflex. The hands withdrew at his sudden movement, but they returned as soon as the limb had betrayed him. Loki's eyes had found the offending hands. They were a woman's, of that he had no doubt, slender as his own but with pure knuckles and rounded nails. He was distracted, however, by the traitor that connected to his pelvis. The fabric was peeled back from his skin, blood sticking to the inside of the article. His leg was relatively clean and he realized the hands were holding a wet rag that was stained with blood- his blood.

Loki's eyes followed the hands up to the face of a woman he had never seen before. She had kind green eyes, but they were wide as though she were not expecting his help. Her lips were slightly parted as though she wanted to speak but was at a loss for words. She blinked at him, gaping like a pathetic fish. Loki's eyes forced to slits and he opened his mouth to speak, but she had turned her attention back to the appendage.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She trailed off, her shoulders tense as she looked from Loki's hard face to the wounded leg on her couch. The wheels in Loki's leg began to turn slowly as she made eye contact with him again and he allowed his features to relax. "You blacked out in my front yard." Her lips twitched with wanting of a smile.

"It's alright." He croaked, looking around the room. The woman had brought him inside the structure, he guessed easily. It was very different from what he had been expecting, but then again, the humans were fairly strange.

"What happened to you?" She pressed the cloth back on his skin and he bit his lower lip, panic rushing through his mind. The last thing he wanted was unwarranted attention, especially with his inability to produce magic. She had cleaned the blood away from the wound, for the most part, but she peered down at it with concern. Without waiting for an answer, she turned her body toward the staircase that lead up to another story, winding behind the couch Loki had been placed on. "Danny!"

At her word, a patter of footsteps rained down the steps. Loki did not bother to look, still concocting a story in the threads of his mind. "Bring me my sewing kit, third drawer in my desk." She inspected the wound on Loki's leg with care, fingers dancing around the opening of the wound gently. _She clearly knows something of human healing..._

She paused, looking up at Loki with her brows raised. "Well?" Her eyes glinted and Loki swallowed, brows furrowing as he allowed his lying silver tongue to take the reins.

"I," He started, blinking with feigned confusion. "I'm not really sure. I don't remember." _Amnesia. _The word stuck out amongst a blur of others in the back of his head. He had read tales of the human world, of their ridiculous illnesses of the mind. If she asked, he could simply tell her that he didn't remember.

The woman tilted her head to the side, but the rushing of footsteps distracted her and she turned back toward the stairs. This time, Loki allowed his eyes to travel. He was mildly surprised as he found the figure to be a small boy, no older than eight or nine years old. "There's bigger needles in the kitchen." His voice was high and his eyes darted between the woman and the stranger. Loki tilted his chin up at the boy, a breath caught in his chest as their eyes met for one fleeting moment. He could have sworn, in the depths of the child's eye, somewhere under the curiosity and innocence, Loki swore he saw his reflection.

It wasn't the dirt covered face, blood dripping over his brow and slender face of an adult. There was no burning eyes or snarl of a beast, no split skin on lips or dark circles under empty eyes. It was the reflection of a child, something Loki had not been since the discovery of his heritage. He was bright eyed and smiling, with rosy cheeks and hope sewn into his core.

Loki tore his eyes away from the boy as he lingered for a moment longer and was happy when the small boy dashed into another room, shyness overcoming him. The woman shook her head, opening the box she had been handed. "I have to give you some stitches. I'm sorry I don't have much to keep off the sting." She was frowning as she spoke, lacing a thread through the eye of the needle. Loki did not respond as she reached to the side, adjusting a lamp that Loki hadn't paid attention to, the light falling on his leg. She bent over it and a tingling sensation shot up his leg.

He didn't so much as flinch as the needle wove through his leg. _At least there's that. _When she had tied it off, she looked at him with pride. She cut the thread and sat back, running the other side of the cloth over his leg once, taking with it the flecks of blood she had missed. "Good as new."

"Thank you." He pushed back the desire to spit the words at her as she packed the tools back into their box and crossed one leg over another.

"So you really have no idea what you were doing wondering around in a field looking like that?" She nodded down at him and Loki glanced as though he hadn't already known what she was referring to- the torn clothing, the burns where the fabric used to be, his skin torn and battered. She sighed. _Sympathy. "_What's your name?"

Loki looked back at the woman, fidgeting under her gaze. "I'm sorry," he told her once more. "I really don't remember anything at all."

"Oh," Her voice was a ghost and she pushed a thread of her mocha hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to take you to a hospital?"

"No!" His answer was almost too quick and he nearly shot forward and took her throat into his hand, but he still needed her, so restraint crossed him. If he killed her, he would be at loss for how to get anywhere or take care of himself. He wanted to choke at the very idea. To sum it up, he was rather.. Well, pissed. "Sorry, I just. I think I don't like them."

The woman stared at him with surprise for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay." It was against her better instinct. Her eyes darted to the room the boy had vanished into and she swallowed. "I'm a nurse, so... I can..." She trailed off, not really sure what to say to the wanderer she had taken in. "Look, I don't usually go about helping strangers who just.. Appear out of nowhere. Or wherever you came from."

Loki could not resist looking up at the ceiling, as though he could see the underside of the rainbow bridge. He could see Thor as he did in those last moments, clinging on to the staff with the blonde hair flowing in his face. _You have no idea._

"I'll look after you, at least until you're well. Maybe we can get you to remember something." She sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling it to a pony tail at the back of her neck. She stopped, taking a second cloth into her hand and passing it to Loki. She pointed wordlessly at her temple and Loki understood, pressing the cool cloth to the skin there. He felt the wound there, a tiny cut that trickled blood rather pathetically.

"You're too kind." He answered, flashing her a toothy smile. She grinned back and nodded. _Foolish human. I am the monster your pathetic child looks under his bed for. _She seemed to read his mind, nervousness crossing her face as she shifted about.

"I don't want to be quick to judge. I don't know you and I really shouldn't be doing this..." Her hand found the back of her neck. "That being said, that kid in there is my world. If anything happens to him.." She didn't have to finish speaking for the threat to hang in the air between them. Loki might have laughed at her feeble attempts to sound threatening. Even without his godlike strength, he knew there was very little she could do if he decided to break the boy's neck in his sleep. "I'm sorry. That was rude. It's just, you know. The world these days, you never know who's wondering around in your front yard covered in blood and burns."

At this, Loki did laugh. He pictured the beasts lurking in worlds this woman couldn't imagine. And she was afraid of a wounded human man. She joined him, their voices a chorus of angels in the otherwise tense, quiet room. They laughed for very different reasons, but it didn't matter.

"My name's Joanna." When the laughter died, her name floated to Loki's ears. "The boy's Danny, he won't talk much. What should we call you?"

Loki shrugged, not really caring. He was not her pet to be named, and his uprooted him further, but the last thing he wanted was to share his name with the mortal. Joanna let a hum pass between her lips.

"You look like a..." She drew the syllable out, tapping her lower lip with one finger. "James. You look like a James."

"James." Loki allowed the name to pass through his lips with a slow nod. He could deal with it.

The house was dark by the time Loki had managed to take in his surroundings. Joanna had practically shoved him into her bathroom with clean clothes and an offered towel after deciding what to call him. His hair had dripped with water, cascading over his face as he watched the dirt and blood spiral into the drain of the porcelain tub, but he had to admit that he felt better. He didn't bother asking where the clothes had come from- it didn't matter. They were clean and fit alright, though they were nothing special. The shower was not emaculate and he cursed as his legs wobbled beneath him and he braced himself, back against the wall of the shower, head tilted to the rushing water and eyes closed. He didn't know how long he would have to stay and recover, but he hoped it would not be long.

Joanna was sitting in her recliner, a book between her thumb and forefinger and an apple in her free hand while James took a shower. She could hear the water pounding down the hall, the sound drowning out her concentration. How long had it been since another adult person was in her home? She didn't know, but it was an odd feeling. She wasn't sure how she felt about him yet. He was nice enough, but anyone that injured in the middle of nowhere couldn't have been great news. _Maybe there was a car wreck, he went into shock and just... Wondered off. _It was reasonable enough, she guessed. She had seen it happen before.

"Are you sure about this?" The small voice made Joanna jump, the book slipping into her lap as her head whipped. Danny was there, watching the hall where the stranger used their bathroom. "He's scary."

"He's just different, Danny." Joanna smiled, pulling the small boy into his lap. His head rest at her collarbone, tucked under her chin. "Just a wounded soldier, that's all. We'll patch him up and he'll be on his way."

"What if he's mean?" The question hung over their heads in a way Joanna had not considered before. Sure, she had threatened the man before, but what _if _he did something? It made her shudder and she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

"I'm sure he's very nice." Joanna whispered, squeezing Danny close to her. He didn't seem convinced, but as the bathroom door swung open, he did not hide his attention to the stranger. James's hair dripped onto his shoulders, dotting the dark green shirt with its tears.

"Those are Dad's clothes." His words were quiet, but accusatory. James blinked, glancing down at the wardrobe. They were simple and held very little value.

"Danny," Joanna sighed, pushing the child off her lap. He stood where his feet touched the carpet, not moving and keeping his eyes on the stranger. James paid no attention to him as Joanna swept out of the room and back in quickly, placing a pillow and blanket on the couch. She turned back toward her guest with a small, sad smile. "Sorry, he's a bit... Brave." A warning glance was spared to the child, who looked down at his feet.

"It's alright." Loki finally turned to look at the boy with a grin, but the boy would not look at him. His lips fell as a pain tore through his heart, but it was not the sort of ache that came from bruised backs and torn skin. He swallowed the pain away as Joanna lead the boy toward the steps and took him up, presumably to put him to sleep. The god in disguise watched them go briefly before finding a resting place on the sofa, his back to the world. The sun was already peaking by the time he finally relaxed in the strange world enough for his eyes to fall closed, the blanket pulled up to his shoulder as his only defense.

* * *

Six days had passed before Loki could stand long enough to watch the world pass by out the bay window of the shelter. In that time, he had learned very little of the human world. Joanna kept him fed and clothed, but it wasn't enough. She was gone during the day, as was her son- what was his name, Danny?- to work and school, mindless activities that he cared nothing for. They would return at the same time those evenings, when the sun had begun to set over the back side of the house and shroud him in darkness. Loki had no qualms with being left alone during those long days, but he knew that he had to learn _something _about that world before he could put his plans in motion. He didn't even know where he was, let alone how to get to where he needed to be.

The seventh day, they were late. It was odd, as Joanna had taken to telling Loki where she was going, all the time, every time. He might have thought it was annoying, but it gave him that much more time to attempt magic. And every time, he would get a tingle in his arm, nothing more. He didn't pay much attention to their absence on his day, as he was rather proud to see that he could light a candle with a snap of his fingers. _It's a start..._

The door slammed closed and Loki turned to see a flash of dark hair as Danny pushed right past him and up the steps. His bedroom door slammed too. Loki sneered at the sounds. The child was getting on his nerves. No matter how kind Loki tried to be to sway the child, he was adamant on hating the strange man who slept on their couch.

The glow of a lamp was all that illuminated the small house. Loki watched the window with boredom on his face and he didn't even flinch when the door creaked open and Joanna slipped inside, locking it behind her. She jumped when she saw Loki was still sitting up. An amused smirk passed his lips, but it quickly faded as he turned towards her. Streaks of tears drained from her eyes, though she kept her face away from him. An ache, not unlike one he had experienced a week ago, jolted through his heart.

"Sorry, sorry.." She was muttering to herself as she pulled the coat off of her shoulders, fumbling to hang it on the hook beside the door. Loki tilted his chin at her as she tried to skirt past him, his arm shooting out and taking her by the wrist. She stopped at this, though there was no force behind his grasp. Even after he did it, Loki wasn't quite sure why.

"Sit." He ordered, voice coming out harsher than he had meant. She hesitated, but obeyed, rubbing her face with the back of her hand. "Long day?" His words bled innocent curiosity, but he knew it was more than that. He wanted to hear the cause for her suffering and told himself that was because he was just that type of being- a cruel monster that fed on the pain of others. In reality, Loki had enough pain in his own heart that seeing Joanna's tears only fed into the dark belief that people were cruel. He did not _want _to see her in pain, but he blamed the world for causing it.

"Something like that." She laughed dryly, not looking at her guest. He twisted his body toward her and she glanced up, noticing for the first time that, when he wasn't covered in dirt or blood, a rather handsome man. "Danny's just giving me a hard time. Lots of stress, that's all."

"He doesn't like me." Loki mumbled, not really expecting a reply and not really caring. But she gave one in the form of silence, her eyes falling to her lap. He watched her with interest, surprised that a human woman had managed to stay in a five foot radius of him for more than a minute without being slaughtered.

"I'm sorry. I really am." She smiled sadly, a choke of tears surging up her throat. He frowned. Why would this fact produce tears? "His dad died when he was three and now he thinks every man in the world is trying to replace him." Loki held his breath, sparing a look at the empty staircase.

The first time he had seen Danny, he saw himself in the boy's eyes. Now, the boy was living in Loki's shadow. He never had his parents' love- that was taken from him long before he was born. To think, Danny's father had been ripped from him, the love going with it, just as Loki's lying parents had deserted him in his brother's shadow...

He looked back at Joanna, who had mustered up the courage to look back at him. Her face lacked the expectations he was sure he would find there. She had stopped crying and simply looked at him, not wanting his sympathy. He gave it anyway. "I'm sorry." The words were only half hollow. He did not care for the dead man, maybe not even for the crying woman or the child who did not like him. But there was something there, hidden deep within the faded tears and hiccups Joanna shared with him. What it was, Loki would not find out for several weeks.

* * *

Two weeks had gone by with little recovery for anyone in the house. Danny still hung his head low, refusing to look at his mother when Loki was around. Joanna was always tired, her eyes dark. She kept her hair tied up and wore sweat pants if she could help it. Loki had made little progress with his magic and recovery and it was beginning to put a burden on his chest. _Perhaps this won't be as quick as predicted._

They were sitting in front of the television, the screen buzzing with a film Loki knew nothing about. He wasn't an idiot- he could figure out how a television set worked, but the point of it was beyond him. The humans never did any activities he was accustomed to, which set him off a great deal. It was frustrating, but there was very little to be done about it. So he settled for what there was, not really paying attention, but not exiling himself either.

He had already been exiled too many times in his lifetime, he was not about to do it again so willingly.

Joanna had chosen the film, as they had done every Friday night. It was something about a boy and a rabbit that might very well have been from another world- which one Loki didn't know nor care. Danny was put to bed half way through and the woman had come slinking down the steps with tears and sleep in the corners of her eyes, curled up on the center of the couch. It was beyond him why she always went back to the center when she might have sat in Danny's now empty place, but he didn't ask. He allowed her to sit directly beside him, paying little attention to the rapid moving images.

"What was his name?" The question had asked itself. Loki would swear for the rest of his life that he had no idea where it came from. It startled Joanna, who asked him to repeat, which he did. She stared at the screen for a long moment, not answering.

"Thomas."

And that was the end of the conversation. He did not ask and she did not answer. He didn't ask her if he was a good husband, if he was a good father. She did not tell him rather he was drunk or if he had a kind heart. Nothing more was said on the subject. Nothing needed to be.

They watched the film in silence after that moment. The word, the _name, _stung her lips long after it had passed. Loki could not get the letters to unscramble from the back of his brain. He didn't know why it bothered him so, it simply did.

As the television flickered in front of them, Loki felt a subtle weight on his left shoulder. His body grew rigid at the touch, looking down at the body pressed so closely to his side. Her temple rest gently on the bone of his shoulder and she did not move aside from the steady breathing that told him she was asleep. He wanted to shove her away. To yell at her for being so foolish or getting so close. He wanted to run out the door and never look back. But he didn't. He let her stay there, not moving as he stared down at her form. When she did not wake as the film ended and his eyes grew heavy, he shifted, lifting her from her place. Joanna's head lolled onto his chest as he took her up the steps and into her room, silently hoping somewhere in the back of his head that she couldn't hear his heart through its prison. He left her to rest on her bed, passing through the darkness of the house to the couch in silence and hoping that moment would be forgotten somewhere amongst the betrayal, abandonment, loss, pain, torture, and venomous loneliness in his heart. It wasn't.

He would later- hours, days, weeks- learn the reason for her late nights, where she lay in bed with tears in her throat, for her weary smile and frustration at Danny when he called _James _out.. And the reason why it stung his heart. In the smallest of ways, he understood. And when she smiled at him, that crooked, half-hearted attempt to coax some king of feeling out of Loki's breath, he knew. She understood him, too.


	2. Part II

**_"I was falling. Falling through time and space and stars and sky and everything in between. I fell for days and weeks and what felt like a lifetime across lifetimes. I fell until I forgot I was falling." -Jess Rothenberg_**

* * *

As the season began to change and flowers began to frost, his magic was coming back stronger. He could move things with a flick of the wrist, ignite the curtains and then set them back as though it had never occurred. These things were trivial to Loki, who was still silently whining about the inability to create a wavering clone.

Joanna and Danny were gone as usual each day except for the weekends, leaving Loki to such devices. When they returned, Joanna would feed the three of them and talk to Danny about getting his grades up or the soccer team. Loki had no idea what soccer was, but it was simply one more thing he learned about humans that he did not know before. After all, knowledge was power.

Danny had begun to warm up to the Devilish man, slowly as though searching for a needle and a haystack. He spoke to Loki more often over the course of two weeks, but there was still skepticism in his eyes. Loki thought it amusing. The distrust did not come from the uncomfortable feeling that the man who sat across from him at breakfast was a vile, murderous creature. No, Loki laughed inwardly. The poor child was jealous that dinner was now made for three, that another man sat next to his mother during movies, that someone else was sharing their couch, their bathroom, their air. But the amusement quickly vanished when he realized that he and the child were one in the same. Jealousy spit into the sea of Loki's heart as well.

The breaking point came on a bright Saturday morning. The sun had climbed relentlessly into the sky. Windows were opened, the air soaring through the main floor of the home with a sharp September chill. Joanna had spent the early hours cleaning up the messes behind the two boys, but she sang quietly to herself with the beating music and a smile on her face. Loki watched her, analyzing the way her hips swayed as she moved around a chair or the strands of hair that fell from the ponytail at the back of her head.

"You shouldn't look at her like that." Danny murmured from the other end of the couch. His eyes bore into Loki's skull. Joanna did not notice, too engrossed in her activities as she moved into the kitchen and disappeared from view. "She doesn't like you that way."

Loki scoffed, turning away from the small child. He could hear Joanna's voice carry across the wooden floors of the kitchen and mix with the wind. Danny did not seem convinced. "When are you going to go? We don't want you here."

"Really?" Loki turned to look at the boy, a glimmer in his eye. "I don't want to be here." He nearly spit the words at the child, but something deep in the pit of his stomach held him back when his eyes met Danny's face.

"You're not my dad and you never will be." Danny growled, arms crossed over his small chest. Loki felt his heart tighten and his lungs constricted, forcing the air out of his mouth. He could feel the small boy's pain shoot through him and forgotten memories rose to the forefront of Loki's mind.

"I'm not trying to be."

Joanna never heard about the brief conversation. She had finished cleaning that afternoon, took Danny to buy some new shoes after scolding him for getting his muddy, and come home looking just as tired as ever. When she went to take a shower, Loki felt Danny's eyes on him again.

"Please don't take her away." The small voice was broken now, shattered beyond the tough exterior he had tried to display earlier that very same day. Danny stood at the bottom of the stairs, already dressed in his pajamas. Loki said nothing at first, choosing to ignore the ridiculous, childish request. He wasn't in the least bit interested in Joanna, the human from (he had learned) Nebraska. Danny moved closer to Loki. "James, please." He was desperate now, aching for an answer from the God who had invaded his and his mother's lives. Loki finally turned to look at the boy, studying him.

"What makes you think I'm taking her anywhere?" Loki inquired, listening to the sounds of night drift through the still opened windows. It was much louder, he had discovered, than Asgard. There were insects and animals that lived in the woods outside the home, nothing like the exterior of the castle. He had lived in the center of a city, in a home with walls too thick to penetrate with the wails of any passing creature.

"I saw her look at you today when you were looking out the window. She doesn't smile like that anymore." Danny looked at his feet, not making any contact. Loki rest his head on the back of the couch, a chuckle filling his lungs. "She says your special, that you were hurt once a long time ago and that's why you don't talk much and you laugh at her when you think she can't see you."

Loki looked at the door that led into the bathroom, steam churning in the gap between the door and the floor. He could almost see Joanna on the other side, her brown hair cascading over her back, vibrant eyes closed as water ran over her face, her hands smoothing the steam from the glass to look at her smile in the reflection. A shiver passed through Loki and he swallowed. _How dare she..._

How dare she.. What? Loki didn't know. He allowed the thought anyway. It was easier to place blame on someone else, but he wasn't even sure what he was blaming her for. His marvelous eyes found Danny and a smile cracked on his lips.

"She's all yours." He told the boy. Danny smiled back at him.

"Really?"

"Really."

"You promise?" Danny teetered on his toes and Loki felt a sudden sensation in his head that he had not heard in months. The joy of his namesake, the calling card to the god of thieves: the wonderful lust for lying.

"Promise."

* * *

There was absolutely no reason for Loki's disease. He could not, for the life of him, figure out why she made him so uncomfortable. He could feel her breath on his neck from across the room, taste her skin when she slept upstairs, felt her hands on his face when she came in the door with her cheeks pink from the wind. It was maddening.

She had done nothing special. Sure, Loki reasoned. She had taken care of him- but so had others, at least in his childhood. Maybe that was why it stung to see her put a bandage over Danny's elbow, ruffle his hair and send him on his way. That was all she had done. She was _human, _first of all. That was bad enough. She was meant to suffer, to kneel at his feet and kiss his boots. But even in his glorious imagination- and believe him, he had imagined his fantastic takeover and kingship a thousand times every day- he could not imagine her actually bending to his will. She would take care of him, but she would not bleed for him.

Bleed.

That was an odd way of putting it. Loki dismissed it as quickly as it had come, watching her as she sat in her chair with a book in her lap. And he knew then why he was so drawn to her.

She was like his mother, like Frigga. She had a heart and gave her son tender care and suddenly, Loki was homesick.

Because of her bleeding heart, he had fallen into her trap. She had pulled him into her home and into her life and now, damn her, Loki was forced to allow her into his. Even if it was only until he recovered, he wasn't sure how he would fair in the world beyond her walls. She had done everything for him up to that point, taken care of his wounds and washed away his pains.

And now, because of a book. She was reading it dully, only really taking in every other word. She had read the same sentence at least four times. Cursing, she pushed the hair back from her face and caught his eye. His brows rose as she approached him with a coat that was not his. "Wanna go out? Danny won't be home tonight."

He had agreed, of course. It wasn't that he was suffocating in the thick air (maybe he was) as much as it was the simple need to observe. How was he supposed to rule them if he couldn't figure out how to make them tick?

She had driven the truck, which Loki learned rather quickly he did not enjoy. The town she lived near was relatively small, with shops lining the main road. People swarmed the streets, piling in and out of the doors. Even though they had to force their way down the sidewalks and Loki thought about hexing each and every person who shoved past him, he kept the magic he had gathered tightly wrapped for a later date. These people would be worshiping him soon enough anyway. He would remember their faces and make them pay for their insolence.

Joanna took him to a small cafe. The walls were a deep red and the furniture of polished wood. She sipped idly on a milkshake while he took in the sights of the vast room. She watched him curiously, but he didn't notice her eyes lingering on his face. He watched a group of teenagers chat loudly in a corner, a bartender pour a drink for an elderly man, and the waitresses fleet around to the numerous tables. The place was not horridly crowded, but it was not deserted either.

"Recognize something?" Her words were lost to him at first, but she let out a small laugh as confusion spread over his face. "James?"

He blinked. "No, sorry. Just... Strange." He was not lying about that part. Everything in the world of the humans seemed so... Foreign. _Great observation. _Loki scowled at himself, fingers tapping on the tabletop. Joanna's nose wrinkled as she let out a laugh, the word 'sorry' slipping through her lips as she covered her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh." Her eyes twinkled. "It's just... You seem so alien, so.. Far away." She looked down at the space of table directly in front of her torso. Loki said nothing to her, feeling his heart flutter at her recognition. Why did it matter? He scowled, sitting back to feel the chair against his back.

"Joanna!" The voice that interrupted them was, like the rest of the world that Loki floated carefully in, foreign. Joanna turned her head to see the source, a blonde man towering over her. He put a hand on her shoulder and Loki did not miss her wavering look. She was frowning, which was to say his presence was not welcomed. "Where have you been?" The man didn't seem to notice Loki at all, not that he particularly minded. He was content to look the man over with a judging glare. Rather he cared for the silly cafe or the ridiculous nurse across from him, he was royalty and was not to be interrupted.

"Um.." Joanna looked up at the man haphazardly, avoiding eye contact. Loki watched with a glint of amusement at her obvious discomfort as the man shot him a glance. He did not like the look in the man's eye, and if he had enough magic... "Scott, now's not a good time."

"Jo," Scott seemed to push Loki out, as though he weren't there at all. "I called you three times this week. I've missed you and Danny." He bent toward her now, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch, looking down at the table and squirming. While Loki enjoyed watching the pathetic worms known as human mortals endure discomforts, he was not the one causing it and this upset him greatly. He refused to accept that there might be another underlying reason he didn't enjoy the other man's face so close to the shrinking woman's ear as he spoke to her. Joanna glanced up at Loki, their eyes meeting. Desperation was scrawled across her irises and before she could even blink, he was on his feet. His own hand mimicked Scott's, curling around the human's shoulder with relentless force. Scott jumped and turned to face Loki, a scowl on his face.

"I don't think the lady appreciates your violation of her personal space." Loki managed to keep his silver tongue, at least there was that. He was glad that was something that could not be taken away from him with the great fall. Scott scoffed at Loki, but his hand dropped from her shoulder.

"I don't remember asking you." Scott barked, tilting his chin in challenge. Loki's hand tightened, his palm digging into the shoulder blade. Scott winced, but his face was stone and Loki looked to Joanna once more. She was watching them with a fleeting gaze, unsure of the predicament. He did not wait for her approval and his hand fell from Scott's shoulder. The blonde one chuckled, turning toward Joanna again. She sucked in a breath, feeling tiny beneath the two squabbling men. "This really the kinda thing you go for now? Tall, dark, and creepy?" He jutted a thumb at Loki. Joanna opened her mouth to speak, shaking her head with anger spilling over her lips, but words failed her. She wasn't really on a date with James, but she wasn't sure what, exactly, it was.

"You'd do best to be on your way." Loki tried one last time, the straws pressing gently on his back. _Walk away while you still have the chance, fool. _He could envision this annoying human hanging by the skin of his neck, or plummeting to his death in the mouth of a beast Loki otherwise might have conjured up. He made mental note that, when the time came to rule over this pathetic race, he would seek out this man specifically. There was no real reason for such disdain, but it lingered in the air and Loki was not fond of it. The man was, simply, a perfect example of why the human's were so... _unevolved_. Various tortures ran through Loki's head as he waited impatiently for the man to step away, but he was no fool. The man did not move, looking at Loki with a challenging gaze.

"Piss off." Scott snarled, leaning toward Loki with hate. Without another word, Loki applied the only method he was capable of. There was not the right amount of magic in his veins there should have been, there was no secret weapon tucked inside the blazer Joanna had helped him acquire, and there was no army of monsters to tear off his head. For lack of these things, Loki had no other choice but to employ a method he had learned from his dear brother Thor, and in a flash his hands were dragging Scott, lifting his feet just mere inches from the ground toward the nearest wall.

A chair was toppled in a swift moment, Loki in control of the other man's body. A string of curse words left Scott's mouth as soon as the pain was shooting through his nervous system as his back slammed into the wall, effectively pinned between it and the raged Loki. His head hit it with great force, bringing stars to his eyes.

Joanna's hand flew to her mouth and she was up out of her chair. Loki's nose was a mere inch from Scott's, his own vibrant eyes piercing his skull. Loki reveled in the quaking fear in Scott's face as his hands pulled at Loki's wrists in vain.

"If I were you," Loki's voice was laced with venom, spitting at the other man with such malice it was almost... _inhuman._ It might have made him laugh if the spite hadn't crawled so far up his throat. Scott was listening intently now, holding his breath. Loki's lips were close to Scott's ear, just as he had done with Joanna, his voice a harsh whisper that only the other man could hear. "I would walk out the door now, while you still have the limbs to move. The next time I see you, I will peel the skin from your bones and wear you like a coat. I'll turn your screams into a symphony and bathe in your blood. Have I made myself clear?"

Loki did not wait for Scott to respond. He leaned away from him, staring into Scott's eyes. There was a boiling rage in the cesspools of blue, swirling with desire to cause pain. His threats were not empty, and this terrified Scott the most. The grip on his shoulders was forgotten as Loki stepped back away, unfazed by the weary eyes of the diner occupants. Scott took mere seconds to compose himself, not making eye contact with Joanna, and all but ran out the door. Loki watched him go, memorizing every detail of the man he vowed to someday strip of all dignity and life. When he found Joanna again, she was watching with wide eyes and stiff shoulders.

"We should go..." Her voice shook as she rushed to gather her jacket. Loki followed her out the door and into open air. Her breath coagulated in front of her slightly parted lips, staring in the direction Scott had disappeared. She turned to look at Loki. He stood with alarming gait, watching her intently as though gauging her reaction to his outburst. "What did you say?"

"I told him to leave you alone." was all he offered her. She nodded, biting on her lower lip. She did not move for some time, but the alarm was no longer in her eyes. It was replaced by something else, though Loki didn't know what it was.

"That was..." She cleared her throat and stepped closer to Loki. "Incredible." A breath of relief passed over her lips, followed by a laugh. A smirk crossed Loki's lips at the sight of her amusement. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

_Incredible._

Loki's eyes glittered in the basking sunlight. Joanna smiled up at him, seeing him as though she never had before. He was quite attractive, in a strange sort of way. His hair pushed back from his handsome face, symmetric and beautiful. She could stare into his eyes for hours and could the fibers that made up the irises. Joanna felt a heat crawl onto her face as she admired him for that brief moment. When she realized he was looking back at her, she tore her eyes away and hoped he would think her blush as simple reaction to the bitter cold on her skin.

"The scum of the earth," He replied finally, a smile on his lips. She would never know just how twisted he was, but that didn't matter to Loki. He was content to see her joy; he had never been the source of someone's joy before now, and he was flattered to see her in such a state. He was sure he would never quite understand why it was he felt the need to threaten the man. Maybe he was just itching for an excuse to expend his frustration at the situation he was living in. Then again, the desire had not arose until he had seen Scott's hand on her shoulder, his face looming over Joanna, the discomfort on her face... "Tell me, are they all like that?"

"Who?" Confusion filled Joanna now and Loki was sure he had said the wrong thing, but she seemed to have a realization (of something that was not true.) "You really don't remember a damn thing?"

"Not in the slightest." He answered.

"I'm starting to think you really are an alien." Joanna smiled sadly at him and stuck her hand between them. Loki looked down at it as though he was afraid it might burn him."Take it. Let's walk and I'll tell you all about it."

Loki looked between the appendage and Joanna's face again, unsure of her request. Finally, seeing no other options, Loki reached forward and took her hand. It softened, warm in his hand despite the bitter cold surrounding them and the ice rushing through his veins. Joanna tugged him forward, leading him down the sidewalk. Her fingers laced with his and she began to tell him stories.

She told him about the ex-boyfriend who hit her just one too many times. He had frowned upon hearing how long she had tolerated the pain and was sure he would have destroyed the man sooner had he known. Loki did not know why he reacted so violently toward the man and chose to ignore the prodding in the back of his head that needed an answer. It would come back to haunt him, but for that moment he simply listened to Joanna's stories.

She told him about the selfishness of men and heartache that had come with it, further proving to Loki that the human race was mediocre at best. He sneered appropriately as she talked, adding to his list more and more. Before he could point out the harsh, terrible ways of man, Joanna was laughing and sharing stories of joy and of happiness. If Loki wasn't so determined and bullheaded, he might have seen the light in her eyes when she looked over at him and was surprised that he was actually listening.

He did not point out that her hand tightened in his when she brought up Thomas. From what Loki gathered, he was a gentle man with a loving heart. It almost made the god sick, but he tolerated her words. Joanna told him how they had met in high school, how they had fallen in love right from the start. He looked at her and realized for the first time in almost two months that she was very young; too young to have properly been ready for motherhood, judging by Danny's nine years. She would have been only seventeen when she'd had him. He realized, also, that she was much too young to be a widow. His heart ached for her, realizing that, like he, she had been left behind.

And she told him about her family. Her mother had died when she was young, her father raising her until she had gotten pregnant with Danny. She had moved in with Thomas then, the two sharing a studio. Thomas was a mechanic with a love of motorcycles and did his best to keep them afloat. Her father had not spoken to her since her departure, and Loki added it to the list of things the two of them had in common.

He noticed, quite clearly, through all of her talking- a good two hours of it, judging by the glowing sphere in the sky- that while she spoke of Scott and Thomas, of Danny and her parents, of her friends and the people who made fun of her in school (number three. The list was ever expanding.) she had failed to mention, on purpose no doubt, how Thomas had died. And he did not ask. He was content to listen, walking beside her as they turned and headed back toward the truck, his hand in hers with their shoulders brushing. Loki had no idea the sentiment implied by the contact, and by the time the sun had disappeared, they were climbing into the truck and driving on the dirt paths back home.

Loki looked at Joanna. The truck shook back and forth on the gravel and dirt, the light of the moon filling the cab. She had stopped talking now, watching the road paved before them. Her lashes came down as she blinked and Loki could count her life's pain in each freckle on her nose. Despite what he had always believed about the human race, Joanna was something different in his eye. She did not ask him, anymore, if he 'remembered anything' or if she could do anything to 'help his situation.' Though she knew almost nothing about him, she was content to give him a home. _A place to belong._

A genuine smile came to Loki's face as the house came into view over the hills. _A home._

* * *

The fire in Loki's hand would never be enough to melt away the layers of abandonment that had encased him in its icy hold. It floated gently between his fingers, flickering in the darkness of Joanna's living room. The sounds of the house were his melody as he played the instrument of magic, turning his hand over and over and watching idly as the fire caressed him. The wind was slapping the windows and the house was creaking as it settled in the bitter weather. He could not hear the sleeping forms of his caretaker and her son in their rooms, fast asleep and unaware of his activities.

How easily, he considered, he could ignite the walls of their chambers. They could scream for hours in the confines of the inferno, skin dripping from their bones like candle wax. He could do it, now, with a snap of his fingers. He could watch the smoke violate their lungs.

Loki grinned at the very idea, but it was falsified. He knew, sitting alone as he had done for centuries, he would never be able to cause them harm. This tiny fact- smaller than the beady eyes of the small boy, smaller than the smile on Joanna's lips- infuriated the mischievous god and the flame became nothing but a drift of smoke, leaving him behind. _As does everything else._

The stairs behind Loki creaked and he felt a presence enter the room. She was padding on the tips of her toes and passed him without a word, flitting into the kitchen. He heard her quietly scramble in the refrigerator, the light drifting across the floor. He stood, following it like a guiding beacon. She closed the door and he watched her drink from a bottle before turning to leave with a bottle in her hand.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she rounded and almost walked straight into her guest. "Jesus," she groaned, her hand at her collarbone. He grinned at this and she took a breath.

"Sorry." The word slipped out and hung in the air between them, completely meaningless. Even in the darkness, Loki could see the tired purple streaks under her eyes. She had been crying again. The grin dissipated. "Are you alright?"

At first, Joanna said nothing. She nodded slowly, not looking at him. As soon as she did, her head moved the other direction, shaking with her shoulders. Her hand moved to her lips and a pang of regret shot through Loki. _I must be losing my mind. _But the thought went unheeded and Loki found his arms encircling the woman's shoulders, pulling her close against his chest. She choked then, a sob whimpering from her lips as her temple met his sternum. Through her cries she could not hear the sound of his thundering heart. His chin rest on the top of her head and he glared down at her hair, trying to understand what exactly he was doing.

"I'm sorry," She was apologizing to him. Loki found this rather odd, but said nothing and simply let her be. He would never know that Joanna would forever appreciate this lack of language. For many years and with many tears, the people in her life had told her not to fret, not to cry, tried to calm her down or told her that nothing was her fault. It was the last thing she would ever need- their words were not calming, they were invigorating and crawled under the layers of her skin. With James's silence, Joanna found refuge. She did not have to explain herself to him and he would not ask. And so she cried, her tears staining the dark shirt he had chosen to sleep in. His hand found the back of her head and Loki felt warmth spread through his heart that she did not cringe in his icy touch.

In her pain, Loki found what he had been searching his entire life for. She had remained in his arms, for how long neither of them had counted. Her hands pressed against his chest, but not pushing him away. _Pulling him closer. _She wanted him to be there. Loki found, for the first time, he wanted to be there too.

When her tears had fallen still, submerging them again in thick silence, Joanna began to tear away from him. He let her go, taking his heart with her as she dried her face with her sleeve. "I'm sorry." She said again.

"It is nothing." He answered. Joanna let out a dry laugh and Loki smiled.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" Her question stabbed Loki and he struggled to understand the purpose of its meaning. Of course he had nightmares. He could see them clear as day even in waking: the demons of his past, blue skinned and red eyed and full of hate, who had left him to die; the man who had taken him from his home with the purpose of turning him into a tool, a relic, and nothing more. Hate spiraled through Loki for a moment, but as he saw Joanna's eyes watching him, it died like his ball of flame.

"Yes." He whispered to the darkness. Joanna nodded slowly in understanding, but Loki wasn't so sure she would ever see the world the way he did. She was entirely too _human _for that. She was a healer, it was her job to keep the human world safe. He did not want to think of what he might have to do to stop her from doing just that when hell rained over her fair world. Joanna's hand was against his heart again, feeling the beat beneath her prints. Loki stared at her, his mind turning as he imagined her in the middle of his chaos. He did not like it.

Without thinking, Loki's hand was in her hair again, longing for the touch of warmth. She did not mind the slightest as he pulled her closely again. His lips found the delicate skin of her forehead. He did not kiss it, but simply let them sit against the flesh, feeling the heat. Joanna breathed into his neck and he shivered against the heat. He kept his eyes closed, flashes of his life passing through his vision. He wondered vaguely if that meant he was dying.

"James?" The name passed her lips quietly and Loki swallowed. It was the name she had given him, decorated him with and tied a bow around. She had made him her own, taking care of him and keeping him stable in a world he would otherwise be lost in. It was not his real name, and this brought a struggle to his gut. But, he reflected, it was better that way.

He did not answer her and Joanna looked up at him, forcing Loki to pull his face away just the slightest bit. The tip of his nose brushed down her forehead as she moved, and soon they were tip to tip. His reflection bounced back at him in her eyes. He did not see a godly magician, a liesmith and silver tongue, or the monster beneath the bed. There was a man there, with hurt in his bones and a heavy heart.

When the space between them had become nothing, Loki's mind had become a slate. He was unable to grasp onto the actions, falling from his strong, stubborn intentions of destroying everything in his path to the throne. It was a familiar feeling, but instead of dropping into a dark abyss Loki found he was floating, gently carried to safety. It was not a perfect kiss. Her lips were a bit chapped from the cold and maybe too warm for his tastes. She was a mortal human, a creature he had hated and looked down upon for as long as he could remember. A vile thing, greedy, spiteful and weak... But _God, _was she warm.

Loki knew before she had even pulled away from him that the kiss was sealing his fate. She had become his sanctuary on earth, the anchor weighing him down beneath the icy waters of hell. He would gladly let it fill his lungs if he could scream. He would drown in her waters.


	3. Part III

**_"We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere." -Tim McGraw_**

* * *

Something had changed in the creaking, old house on the hill. Frost covered the windows, the late December flakes kissing the windows and begging to be let inside. The rays of sunlight that drifted carefully through the clouds were far and few between, just barely igniting the world below. It crept over the horizon and a new day began.

Loki's eyes were heavy with sleep, but something had begun to draw him to the surface. His body was numb to the outside world, frozen beneath the slim sheet pulled to his waist. When the orbs finally opened, Loki discovered that he was, as he had been for almost a month now, laying in a bed. The couch downstairs had been abandoned. He moved his head, looking for the source of heat against his chest. She was there, as she had always been, wrapped in his limbs and a sliver of sheet. The straps of her gown careened off her shoulders, exposing the delicate skin there.

He didn't recall when, exactly, this change had come. He supposed it had started with the kiss, but six weeks had passed since that moment. Sometime after that he had kissed her again. And then again days later, and once more after a bout of anger in which he had knocked down three trees during a storm. They were poisonous and burned his lips for days afterward, but she had not relented an antidote. It were as though he thought another kiss might save his life, and for a moment it did. But then when he let her go and saw blush on her cheeks, he knew he was making a mistake. More and more every day, Loki fell deeper and deeper into the grave he had begun to dig for himself. He hated himself each morning when his eyes opened and she was always there, locked between his chest and arms as though prisoner to his devices. But he just _couldn't stop._

When her eyes opened on this particular Sunday morning, she did not look up at him, smile and kiss his lips, banishing the betraying thoughts, as she did on every other day. Loki looked down at her with a frown, waiting for her to initiate the morning ritual they had become so accustomed to. She finally moved in his arms, only slightly to wipe the sleep from her eye.

"It was a motorcycle accident." Her voice was low, gravely as though she were fighting back a disease. Loki listened, his eyes closed. He breathed her in- the smell of winter and daffodils. "He was on his way home. We were going to go to his sister's house for his niece's birthday and he had gone to get her a present. It was some doll that was really popular. He never made it back."

She offered nothing more and, as usual, he did not ask. He pulled her closer and she wrapped herself in him, a shuddering breath passing through her lips. They lay for quite some time, forgetting that there were things that needed doing. She had a house to clean, laundry to wash and a son to tend to. Loki needed to practice his magic, which he had taken to doing out in the fields when he fed her lies about needing time, alone, to try and remember his life. It was during one of these sessions he realized the need to destroy the trees in his rage. But the two bodies did not move, basking in the silence of the house for just a moment longer.

"It still makes me sad," she sighed, looking up at Loki. He felt suddenly soft as she brushed her hand across his cheek. A smile passed over her. "I never thought I would love anyone as much as I loved him. Never again."

Loki watched her intently, waiting for her to continue, but there was nothing more to say. She was kissing him again and he accepted it with spite. Her hands wrapped around his neck and he left his where they were on her hips. He could taste the pain in her mouth and feel torment in her body when she rolled so that she was on top of him, neck swooped down on him like a vulture. Heat crawled painfully through his gut, one hand finding the back of her head to hold it in place. Their mouths consumed each other's tongues, dripping with sickness. Loki felt his stomach coil at her touch as her hands drifted beneath his shirt and over his chest. When they stopped, he was sure she was about to reach into his body and wrench the heart from him. One leg on either side of him, he felt her pressing against him bitterly. A spike of hate shot down his chest and into his groin and he pulled her closer.

His hands traveled the length of her thighs, squeezing the muscles and leaving angry red circles in the wake of his palms. He found her arms, the tender shoulders easily breakable in his bare hands. He could have pulled her by the hair, dragging her screaming through the dust, if he had wanted to. She was so fragile, so weak and so damn hateful.

But he couldn't stop. He could not push her to the floor or cause her the physical pain he was so keen on doing to the rest of this forsaken world. So instead, he peeled the layers of comfort from her skin, leaving her completely exposed as he overpowered her, hovering over her pathetic form.

Loki did not notice when she had followed in his footsteps, tearing the shirt from his back and exposing him just as easily as he had done her. The white hot sting of something vile rose through his body, shaking him to the core. His mouth was on her neck and he had a quickly removed thought of tearing the flesh away with his teeth. Oh, how he _loathed _this human woman.

He could feel her now, closer than ever. Her hands were clawing desperately at his back and wove through his hair, only surging the feeling in his lower abdomen. He moved with urgency, taking her swift and with disdain.

Or so, he thought. All of the hate, the rage that had consumed his soul and torn his mind to shreds, was gone. He thought he might hate the woman, wanting to tear her apart as easily as he could have done. He had thought she was as expendable as any other woman he had bedded. But when she moved beneath him like a serpent, back arching so that she pressed against him, her body coated with sweat that was both hers and his own, the name she had given him sitting safely on her tongue, he realized too late that it was just the opposite. Something had settled in the dark recesses of his heart, and it was not pain or terror.

When she tightened around him, pulling his body close with her knees, a gasp ghosting her face and her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, Loki realized much too late what it was. He found release in Joanna's embrace, nearly collapsing on her frail body beneath him. His tiredness was not the source for such an action. No, it was something else entirely. Loki lowered himself to her, longing for the sound of her beating heart in his ear. He found it, and she stroked his head with one hand, holding his naked form against hers. He listened to the rhythm in her mortal chest, swallowing the stone that had built in his throat. Neither of them said a word and silence filled the air once again, giving the illusion that time had ceased and they were alone, lost to the rest of the world. Loki hated it, loathed the feeling it brought him. But all the same, with her beating heart in his ear, he knew that, at least partially, it beat for him.

* * *

_The Nazis began experimenting with poison gas for the purpose of mass murder in late 1939 with the killing of mental patients ("euthanasia"). A Nazi euphemism, "euthanasia" referred to the systematic killing of those Germans whom the Nazis deemed "unworthy of life" because of mental illness or physical disability. Six gassing installations were established-_

"James?"

Loki looked up from the book between his hands. The pages were slick between his fingers, but they lay forgotten. Danny looked down at him with a sideways smile. He was becoming attached to the god, quite suddenly Loki had noticed. A backpack was settled on his shoulders and Loki realized it was Tuesday. It would be time for school soon, but Joanna was nowhere in sight. He knew where she was: upstairs, wrapped in a cocoon of bedsheets with her head under a pillow. She had been sniffing all night long, keeping the god awake. She apologized a million times and eventually he had left her alone, coming back once to bring her hot tea, which she had taken gingerly between her hands with surprise. Not once since his arrival did Joanna expect her amnesiac lover to do her favors. She wasn't even sure if that was what he should be called. They had made love, sure, only the one time. The words had never come from either of their lips as of yet, but no other words seemed appropriate.

With the sudden illness, Joanna had decided against going to work that day. Danny had crawled into her room ten minutes ago, only to find her in dead sleep. He snuck out of the room and down the steps, finding James sitting on the sofa with a history textbook in his hands.

"Do you know how to drive a truck?" Danny's brow rose and Loki found amusement in his innocence. He shook his head and disappointment crossed Danny's face. He shifted the weight of the bag to his other side, glancing at the door. "Do you think you could walk me to the bus stop? It's down the road, but mom would have a cow if I went out by myself." Both Danny and Loki knew this was a complete falsity, but Loki allowed the pages in his hands to fall closed and tossed it to the side. He watched Danny skip toward the door and fling it open as Loki pulled the long trench coat on._ Have I gone soft?_

He walked beside the young boy wordlessly down to the dirt road. They followed it, sucking in the morning air. Danny kicked at a rock along the way. Loki watched him curiously, hands buried in the pockets of the coat. He knew he only did so to please the young boy. He hadn't the heart- though it was frozen, concealed and dark, perfectly willing to break the necks of enemies- to turn the boy away. There was too much of himself in the boy's eyes and, if he didn't know any better, he might have said they were one in the same. Is that what it was like to truly be a father? Odin was no father. Loki snarled at the very idea. He had abandoned both of his sons, casting one into the darkness and taking his power, and filling the other with torturous lies. The one who had bore him, the Jotun Laufy, was certainly no figure to call upon. Loki watched Danny slow down as he realized the older man was lagging behind.

He and Danny shared this fate. They were both fatherless children. They had loving women to care for them. Loki thought of Frigga, how she had cared for him and tended to his needs. He had no idea that was love until he met Joanna and Danny. Joanna was so much like his mother, and he so much like Danny, that he wondered for a moment where he fit in in the lives of the human mortals he had lived with for these months. And then, as Danny turned to him with a grin on his face, he knew _exactly _where he fit in.

And that was the strangest feeling of all.

"Do you love my mom?" Loki felt a stab in his gut and tore his eyes away from Danny before the question could even process in his mind. He did not have an answer for the child right then, but he knew that by the time Danny returned from school he would have been thinking about it all that day. By then, he would have an answer and he wasn't sure rather he would be willing to sacrifice it. When he didn't answer, Danny frowned and kept walking.

"It isn't that simple." The truth flooded from his lips before he could stop it and Danny looked up at him with confusion.

"She loves you." Danny said matter-of-factly. It was so odd, how the young boy had once hated the man who wore his dead father's clothes. And now, they walked side by side and Danny seemed saddened that Loki had not immediately said 'yes.' His words stung Loki. His intentions when they had taken him in had been so simple. When had it gotten so hard? His powers were almost at full capacity now and he could leave whenever he wanted. He stayed because of them. Because he didn't know how to take care of himself in the world of humans, but now he didn't need to. All he had to do was find those who had taken in Thor. Control them and the world was his for the taking. He knew what he had to do and it would take very little for him to get there. What was he waiting for? The time was now.

"Don't hurt her, okay?" Danny blurted, turning and walking backwards. Loki stopped walking as he spotted a big, yellow vehicle pulling down the road toward a group of children Danny's age. Danny did not wait for an answer as he turned around and ran to catch the bus, leaving Loki in the dust. The lying God watched after him, his heart splitting in two and sinking deeper into the darkness of his chest.

As he walked back to the house, he stopped just beyond the porch, looking up at it as though it were a painting hung in a museum. It was nothing, a blink of an eye, compared to the home he had grown up in. There was nothing particularly special about it, other than Loki knowing what was behind the heavy door.

His gaze wandered to the window on the second story, obscured by a long alabaster curtain. He could see Joanna already, buried in her bed waiting for him to come to her side with honey and tea. A sadness washed over Loki, one he had not felt in ages. After a thousand years of heartache, he had finally found a place to belong. And now, only months later, a short blip of time in comparison, it was going to be over. He had made up his mind. He would be leaving, soon.

Loki passed through the home in silence, barely feeling the floor beneath his feet. He noticed, for the first time, the house contained no photos of her husband. As he pushed the door to her room open, he found her laying in the bed in an instant. Her eyes were closed with sleep, her hair swirling around her like a black hole. The freckles on her nose sparked and he fought the urge to touch each and every single one of them. Loki sat down gently on the bed beside her, careful that she would not stir.

He considered, for a flicker of a moment, telling her the truth. Using a bit of energy to change the human clothing into his armour, new and shining, to show her what he really was. He could conjure a fire, make the objects in her room dance around them, or show her another world entirely. But, as he watched her chest heave with sick sleep, he decided against it. He would be leaving either way, and he did not want her to remember him as a creature from hell. _She would be better off,_ he told himself, _with knowing me as James the amnesiac. _A kiss was placed on her forehead and she moved, her eyes fluttering open. Even through her sickness, Loki still found beauty in her gaze and in the touch of her lips. He could never catch the illness from her, so he did not mind when she coughed into his shirt as he held her close to him.

* * *

She had feared, in the past months, that someday, James would wake up. The moment would come when he was kissing her and his hands were in her hair, or when he was in the kitchen while she baked, sharing a chocolate covered spoon with Danny. Maybe it would come when they made love, a terrible nightmare that had haunted Joanna.

Someday, she had realized. She was watching them from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Danny was on the couch, a textbook opened in his lap. Paper littered the coffee table and James was sat beside him, leaning over the small boy's body as he assisted him with an assignment. Something about Nazis, she had heard.

Someday he would remember. It stung her heart. He would open his eyes and realize he was not in his real home. James would kiss her and remember that he had a wife, or look at Danny and suddenly see his own children. Maybe he had brothers and sisters who were somewhere looking for him, and she felt guilty and selfish. He had appeared, dropped into her life as if from no where, and she had made no attempts at helping him to get his own back. Out there somewhere, there was a faceless man who had disappeared. An accident of some kind, or maybe someone left him out there, she would never know.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she realized how selfish she had been and she turned away from the two men, leaning against the cool glass on the door that led to the back yard. She wanted to choke on the thought of another woman, a loving mother perhaps, someone who loved James as much as she did, maybe even more. Someone who had him torn from their lives, just as someday she was sure he would be.

The footsteps tore her from her thoughts and she found James standing in the door looking back at her with knit brows. She didn't even pretend to smile as she stepped into his embrace, clinging onto him as though it were the final time she ever would. James held her close, neither of them speaking, as though he already knew what she was thinking. He had that power, and for it she was forever grateful. He never asked, never judged.

Loki let go of Joanna and she set to getting the kitchen ready for dinner, the sadness expanding in the room about to burst. They let it sit. Neither talked about it or tried to touch it. He just watched her bustle back and forth and leaned against the frame. He memorized her movements, the way her hair strayed from the ponytail and the way her eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. _Joanna..._

* * *

A family. That was something Loki had always been disillusioned into having. He had been tricked his whole life, thinking that his was of perfection. His brother, the almighty Thor and favorite of the king and queen. Frigga, the loving woman who took him under his wing and loved him like none other. And King Odin, who was fair throughout childhood until the moment came when his world was crushed beneath the King's boot. Loki could pinpoint the exact moment when it was all taken from him, harshly swept away with the hand of reality. His skin was blue, his eyes were searing red and blood cold. Lies spouted from Odin's gravely lungs and nothing had ever been the same.

There was something to be said about the woman who had taken him in. She knew nothing of him in those moments, lying unconscious in the dirt with blood and burns covering his wounded body. She had accepted his clever lies without so much as a questioning glance and had kissed his lips with no hesitation. She was special, he decided.

And her son, the small boy that reminded Loki so much of himself that it made him ill. His eyes were bright with knowledge for such a young boy and he looked up at Loki as though the god were the only being in all nine realms. To Danny, Loki was already king.

Six months. He had been with Joanna for so long, he might have forgotten how cold the world could be if he hadn't seen it in her face each time she walked in the door after spending the time she had away from him. It was in her tears and in her voice. Loki listened to the stories of men who died from wounds they had received from others. He felt the stab of betrayal return and knew that the day had come. He had to leave.

Joanna was curled in his arms, her head in the crook of his shoulder. He had put Danny to sleep, listening to the boy talk for a few moments before turning out the light and closing the door, casting one last look at the small frame. He took in the smell of her hair, burying his nose in it as though he would never remove it. Her breathing was uneven, a sign that she was still awake. He could feel her heartbeat through her back, cradling her against him. Her hair spread across the pillow and mixed with his- it had grown so much and he had not noticed until that moment how long it had truly been.

"I love you." The words were a whisper, a fearful promise to the darkness of the bedroom. His arms tightened around her and he felt a warmth in his stomach. And he allowed himself to give into the temptation once more. He took her, making sure to touch every inch of her pale skin, to kiss every freckle, to count each strand of hair. Her arms wrapped around his throat and hands woven in his hair, Loki was sure to imprint the memory in a place he could always find it. Joanna was oblivious as he filled her, the two of them dancing to the same rhythm of pounding hearts. His false name passed her lips again and Loki had to stop him self at the last possible second from correcting her. It was alright. It would always be alright.

The sun had barely come over the treetops when Loki slid out of the bed. Joanna's head touched the pillow gently as he moved it off of his chest, wrapping the blanket carefully around her shoulders. As he walked down the steps, he touched every surface as he passed by: the table beside her bed, the doors and walls, the back of the couch. Finally, he stepped out onto the porch and started down the steps. He cast a look behind him, eyes finding that one window that held his soul. The house seemed sad to see him go as he turned and walked down the path to the road and slipped between the trees. As he moved through them, the clothing of the mortals had begun to shed. In golden light, it was replaced by the memory that had driven Loki to leaving in the first place. Green and black tunic, dark pants and heavy boots; armour on his shoulders, a cape swirling around his feet. He stopped in the middle of the road, finding the crater where he had woken up all those months ago. He turned, facing toward the rising sun and looking around once more.

To the right, he saw a rolling plane of hills not unlike the back of a serpent. The hills roll on for miles and vanished beyond where he could see. They beckoned an uncertain future should he take that path and were rather tempting. Loki held his breath.

To the left, a single hill soared toward the sky. Beyond that was the twist of trees that hid the world beyond it, but Loki knew what was behind them. Somewhere along that dirt path was another hill, and on that hill was a house. A home, one that had been his for six months. It was pale yellow and had a white door. A white truck was parked outside of it and there was a window on the second floor. A woman slept there and when she opened her eyes, her heart would break. She would find her son sleeping, just as unaware, in the next room over.

Loki looked back at the fields that stretched across the Nebraska lands. He knew, without a shadow of doubt, this was not the place for him. There was something in another city, in another time, waiting for him. The world was his for the taking, and now it was finally time. His energy had returned, he was strong again. His goals rushed back to him, a reminder of the great destiny that would soon be his. The revenge, his right, his closure: the future that would finally bring him total peace.

As the magic began to flow through him once more, Loki looked to his left. Nothing had changed in those few moments, but he knew that seconds from now, everything would change. Joanna would never kiss him again and he would never walk with Danny down the dirt paths.

But of all this pain, the torture of loss that was once again befalling the rightful King of Asgard, Loki was glad. The paths of fate had been laid out before him a thousand times, and he had chosen carefully. Some paths led to dead ends, others to great destinies and great failures. He had to choose a path and take it before he would find where it led. This time, Loki had gotten to his feet with a weak heart full of anger and hate. He had chosen his path, and he did not regret it.

He had turned left.

Over the hill and through the trees, and there he had found Joanna. And then, like the winter winds and a woman's kiss, he was gone.

* * *

_Such a sad departure :( Don't forget to drop a review and/or vote in the poll. I would like to continue the story if there's people who would be up for it. It will follow the Avengers and perhaps Thor: The Dark World eventually. Thanks so much for reading!_


End file.
